


Worth Waiting For

by Nevermore_red



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Babysitting, But Molly And Greg Are Adorable, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Greg is Smitten, Hints of Johnlock - Freeform, Lestrolly, Miscommunication, Mollstrade, Molstrade, Multi, Post TFP, Scene Depicting Violence, So Many Couple Tag Names, They're All Awful, nothing too graphic, smut in chapter 2, so is Molly
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-21
Updated: 2017-02-22
Packaged: 2018-09-26 00:12:25
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 7,467
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9853175
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Nevermore_red/pseuds/Nevermore_red
Summary: Molly has experianced love in many forms, but this one might just well be the best.





	1. Chapter 1

_"I love you."_

Three tiny little words, yet somehow they were so powerful. They could empower you or destroy you. They could build you up into a better person, or tear you down until you were nothing but a bitter shell . They could make or break a person. Wars had been started because of love, and they had ended because of it as well. Love, in all its forms, was something people craved or revolted. Molly had experianced her fair share of love. Familial love. Friendly love. Painful love. Burning, consuming love. Unrequited love. Boring, half forced love. Love so bright and intense it faded out just as quickly, leaving her a bit shaky after. There had been love that changed the person she was, for better or worse. Love, and its loss, that had left a gaping hole inside of her. All of it had shaped her, molded her, developed her into the person she was.

Adam, Molly's older brother, had told her she loved too easily and too deeply. Molly thought he might have been a bit right. Maybe she did, but Molly didn't know how else to love. There was nothing she could do to stop herself from being the caring, compassionate, and all too forgiving person she was. Brandon, Molly's younger brother, thought of it more as a good thing. It was one of his favourite things about Molly, how loving she was.

The first time someone outside of her family told her they loved her, Molly had been walking on air. Aamir was a year above her in med school. He was exotically handsome and intelligent. He told her she was pretty (another first) and took her out on lovely dates. He'd been her first love, her first lover, and her first heart break. It was months into them dating when he told her he was moving back to India once he graduated and that he was promised to marry another woman. He was happy about it, excited even. Molly had been nothing more than a detour on the road to the rest of his life. After Aamir, Molly focused on her schooling. She met other guys, had a good time with them, but she kept her heart to herself.

It wasn't until her residency at St. Bart's that she found herself willing to give up her heart once again. Celia had introduced Molly to many things. She was outgoing and funny and brought Molly along to pubs and clubs and soon Molly had a whole group of lovely friends. Celia helped Molly find herself, taught her a bit about self confidence and guided her into finding her footing in the world. Molly never felt pressured by Celia or their friends. She felt accepted and cared for and that was the best feeling in the world. Celia had also shown Molly that sexuality wasn't always so cut and dried. Never had Molly been attracted to women before, and she wouldn't ever really be again. It wasn't _women_ she was attracted to, it was _Celia_. They never put a title on what they were doing, other than fun and fulfilling. Molly loved Celia, and knew Celia loved her, but they were never _in_ love with each other. It was another thing Celia had taught Molly, how to love without being in love. A year passed like that, and Celia left one weekend to meet up for a holiday with her family in Devon. It seemed impossible to Molly that they would never see each other again. A car accident seemed far too mundane and ordinary to take someone as lively and special as Celia.

Losing Celia had left a hole in Molly. It shattered her. Celia represented a time in Molly's life when she had finally found happiness with herself and with her life. It would take quite a long time for Molly to pull herself together, but she did, knowing that's what Celia would have wanted her to do.

Loving Sherlock was complicated and painful, at least for her. It hurt to be over looked and feel so insignificant and unimportant. There were times, though, when he would turn that all too intense gaze on her that she would feel like the only person in the world. Sherlock just had that presence about him. You were either nothing or everything, and it could change within a matter of seconds. She learned over the years that Sherlock would never love her. Not like she loved him. The phone call only proved it to her. While Sherlock did indeed love her, though perhaps he himself didn't even know that until her imminent (and false) demise, he was not and would never be in love with her. It had hurt her, hurt her so badly, but it had also brought forth a long buried anger at him for not returning her feelings. She spent a few weeks isolating herself from him, ignoring his texts and calls and knocks on her door. He never broke in and he never showed up at the morgue, so he apparently understood her need for space. Most likely because John told him she would need it. After a lot of thinking and soul searching, Molly was able to forgive him and with that forgiveness came freedom. For the first time since the second she'd met Sherlock all those years ago, she finally felt her love for him fading. She would always love him to some extent. She still cared for him and worried about him. Sherlock was and would always be her friend but now her emotions towards him weren't suffocating or consuming.

Falling in love with Greg Lestrade hadn't been expected, at least on her part. Sometime in the months following the rebuilding of 221B, they had grown into something more. They'd always been friends, to one extent or another. Molly had always been aware that he was handsome and kind, but now she found herself really appreciating it on a different level. The two of them would often pick up Rosie to give John and Sherlock time alone to rebuild their relationship as much as their once again shared flat. They took her out to lunches and dinners, spent afternoons at zoos or parks. Greg confided in her one such afternoon that he had always wanted children but his wife never had and like with everything else, he had given in to her wants while pushing his own to the side.

"There's still time." she heard herself saying without putting much thought into it. Greg had chuckled, steering a toddling Rosie towards their seat for the magic show in the park.

"I doubt that." he sat, pulling Rosie into his lap so she could have a good view. "I'm nearly fifty and single." he raised a teasing brow at her when she looked at him. "Making babies usually calls for a partner."

"Oh." Molly blushed a little, turning to look towards the makeshift stage set up. "Well. I hear Mick Jagger just had a baby. And he's in his seventies."

That had Greg laughing. "Yeah, but isn't his wife in her twenties?"

"Probably." Molly grinned.

"See? A partner. Which is absent in my life with no great prospects on the horizon."

Molly frowned, a disappointment settling heavily in her chest. Was _she_ not a prospect? Sure, they weren't in a relationship and they hadn't gone out on any sort of proper date, but she had thought...well, obviously she'd been wrong.

The magic show was a big hit for Rosie. She'd squealed with delight and laughed and clapped her little hands the entire time. She ended up standing on Greg's thighs to see better, and Molly watched with a wistful smile as Greg steadied her with hands on her waist and an even bigger smile on his face. He'd become someone of great importance to her and she was greatly upset that he didn't feel the same.

Her dreary mood seeped into their interactions and the late lunch they got after the show was mostly silent other than sweet, oblivious Rosie's jabbering. Greg kept shooting her concerned looks but it wasn't until after they'd dropped Rosie back off with John and Sherlock that he said anything.

"Everything alright?" he asked once they stepped back out onto the walk.

"Yeah." she shot him a smile without really looking at him. "I'm fine. Thanks for lunch today. I'll get the next."

"Sure." he nodded, hands shoving into his trouser pockets. He seemed to hesitate, rocking back on his heels for a few seconds.

"Well." Molly gave a nod. "Best get going. Need to stop at the shops before heading home."

"Right." he sighed. "Yeah. I'll see you later?"

"Yeah. Later." Molly quickly went on tiptoe to give him their customary kiss goodbye on the cheek. Greg caught her elbow gently, steadying her, and then returned the kiss to her cheek, his stubble scraping her skin lightly. Swallowing against the sudden lump in her throat, she quickly went to the kurb to her waiting cab and opened the door while Greg started down the walkway. He lived far closer, so normally walked while Molly always took a cab.

"Molly." she paused at her name, on leg inside the back of the cab. Looking over her shoulder she found Greg back tracking towards her and if she wasn't mistaken, he was blushing.

"Yeah?"

"Are you, uh." he ran a hand over the back of his head. "Did I say something wrong? You aren't mad at me, are you?"

"No." she said quickly with a shake of her head. "No, of course not."

"Something changed, though." he looked at her closely. "Something's bothering you."

"Hey, you gonna get in or not lady?" the cabby asked over his shoulder.

"Uh," she looked at him through the window, then out at Greg. "No." she stepped fully out and handed the driver a few notes with an apology.

"I didn't mean to make you lose your cab." Greg watched the cab drive off.

"It's fine." she shrugged. "Take a walk?" she asked, motioning in the direction he normally went with a wave of her hand. He nodded without answering and they walked in silence for a few minutes.

"So, uh." he cleared his throat. "What's wrong?"

"Nothing's _wrong_ , Greg, I promise." she assured him. "It's just...I thought." she let out a frustrated noise. "You said you had no prospects." she grumbled with a deep flush.

"Prospects?" Greg pulled to a stop and Molly did as well, looking back at his confused expression.

"For a partner." she clarified, unable to fully make eye contact.

"Well, yeah." he shrugged. "I'm not...I'm not _dating_ anyone, Molly."

"I know." she swallowed. "It's only that I thought that maybe you and I were..." she trailed off with a wince, chin dropping to her chest.

"Oh." he let out an audible breath, then a surprised little laugh. "Oh, you mean. You thought." he laughed again, a little louder and Molly recoiled in mortification before a rush of shame and anger washed over her. How dare he laugh at her!

"I wasn't aware it was so funny." she spat, voice shaking a little. From anger and hurt. She sniffed. "Excuse me." Moving around him quickly, Molly nearly ran in the opposite direction. Screw a cab, she wanted the physicality of walking to help her deal with the torrent of emotion. How could she be so stupid? Again! She had thought Greg was different. He was just so caring and sweet.

"Molly!" he called from behind her, but she ignored him, and the next two times he yelled. She picked up the pace instead. She hated that she was crying and didn't want him to see her.

"Molly, _goddamn_ it!" he called again, this time sounding less confused and more angry. "Stop."

It was the surprise at hearing him curse towards her, the steely anger inflicted in his voice that had her stopping. She spun around, forgetting for a second that she'd been crying, her mouth wide in surprise, not yet decided if she was offended or not.

"Christ." he stopped in his jog after her. "Where the hell are you going?" he took in her face, the tear tracks on her cheeks and all the annoyance and anger completely drained out of his face, replaced by nothing but concern and confusion.

"Molly girl." he said softly, head tilting to the side with a helpless little sigh. "What're you doing?"

"I'm going home." she sniffed, wiping angrily at her cheeks. "I won't stand here and be laughed at. I'm sorry if the idea of us being together is so _humorous_ to you, but it isn't to me."

"No." he immediately looked guilty. "No, no. That's not what I was saying. I wasn't laughing at that."

"Then what," she glared at him, hands propping on her hips. "Was so funny?"

"I was laughing at the absurdity of it." when her eyes flashed again and she opened her mouth to rant, he cut her off with a raised hand. "Not...not you. Not what you said. Me, Molly. I'm an idiot." he shrugged. "I adore you, Molly. Have for a long time, but you never did me. I assumed you only wanted to be friends so that's what we are. When I said that at the park it wasn't meant to be a slight against you. I honestly just didn't think you'd ever consider me. And then when you said that, I realised I'm an idiot. I didn't mean to hurt you or offend you."

She sniffed, her anger completely deflating, replaced by embarrassment at having caused such a scene simply from miscommunication. "What about yelling and cursing at me?" 

"I've a foul mouth when I'm upset." he looked shamefaced, scratching at his jaw. "You wouldn't stop and I needed to explain. I wasn't really yelling at you, just needed to talk loud enough to get your attention. And the cursing...well, I'll work on that. I would never curse _you_ , though. I'm sorry."

"I know." she smiled a little, knowing full well Greg would never curse her. "I was a bit embarrassed so possibly I overreacted, or reacted too quickly. So I'm sorry, too."

Greg chuckled softly. "Alright. We're both sorry sods. And I'm an idiot. Now that we've got that out of the way, can I ask you something?"

"Sure." she met his eyes with a smile, feeling a bit giddy.

Greg smiled back at her, getting a bit distracted for a moment. "Right. Uh, a movie. At the theatre. It's that horror flick I've been wanting to see since you showed me the trailer. D'ya think you might want to come with me?"

Molly giggled, unable to stop the bubble of mirth and happiness. "Without Rosie?"

Greg laughed at that. "Well, I'm not sure her dads would approve, though she'll probably be exposed to more gruesome murders at home. But I'd like it to be just us. As a date."

Taking a minute, pretending to think it over with a finger to her chin and eyes raised to the sky, Molly finally looked back at him with a beaming smile.

"Yes." she gave a firm nod. "So long as you throw in dinner as well."

"You drive a hard bargain, Dr. Hooper." he grinned, taking a step closer to her. "But I suppose we could fit that in."

"Then it's a deal, DI Lestrade." she teased.

"Nope." he shook his head. "It's a date. Can we maybe seal that with a kiss?"

An excited thrill shot up Molly's spine as her eyes flicked down to his mouth. She quickly pulled her bottom lip into her mouth, running her tongue over it before releasing it.

"That," she swallowed. "Could be arranged."

"Yeah?" he smiled.

"Sure." she gave a shrug, like it wasn't a big deal when in reality she wasn't sure she could stand there on a public street and kiss him with enough restraint to be appropriate. Given the fact Greg's grin turned into a downright lascivious smirk, he probably guessed at what she was thinking.

Reaching out to grasp one of her hands, Greg tugged her a step closer to him and tipped his head down enough to place a soft, gentle, sweet kiss on her upturned lips. It was chaste, tasting of joy and the promise of something wonderful.


	2. Chapter 2

Smug was not a word that came to mind when most people thought of Greg Lestrade. He didn't even think it himself. He liked to think he was a pretty humble guy, and he was. To be completely honest, there hadn't been a whole lot in his life that could have caused him to be smug. Now, though. Now he'd gotten the girl, and not just any girl. Dr. Molly Hooper. Wonderful, sweet, compassionate, awkward, smart, adorable, sexy Molly Hooper.

Greg had fancied Molly for years. When he first met her, long before John Watson showed up on scene, he'd found her cute and good at her job and that was just about it. Oh, he noticed her infatuation with Sherlock, but it hadn't been any of his business. He was still married, still mostly happy, still playing the ignorant card when it came to his wife's extramarital activities. It wasn't until that godawful Christmas party a few years back that he'd realised Molly Hooper wasn't just cute. Damn sexy, she was. He'd felt a little bad, a little guilty, at the torrent of fantasies and foul thoughts he'd had about her in the weeks that followed. Not because of his wife. Why should he be guilty for thinking about another woman when she was out fucking other guys? No, he felt guilty because it also felt a little degrading to Molly to be thinking of her in that way. A violation of sorts that he couldn't stop when he closed his eyes at night and brought himself off. That lust he felt for her evolved and changed into something deeper over the years. Molly was blinded to him, though. Sherlock was all she ever saw. He'd accustomed himself to that reality and he'd accepted it. Molly would never want anything from him other than friendship so he would be her friend and be happy about it.

Over the last year he noticed the change in her around Sherlock. She didn't look at him with the same (frankly sickening) love in her eyes. She was indifferent to his smiles and his attention and seemed genuinely happy when it became apparent John and Sherlock were taking steps to change their status from friends to lovers. Still, Greg had never expected her to take notice of _him_. It wasn't that he lacked any self confidence or that he was self loathing. He wasn't. There was a lot he had going on for him. Good job, decent living, upcoming promotion to DCI, and even if he wasn't horribly sexy he was at least attractive enough that he could still turn a few heads. But, damn. This was _Molly Hooper_. Molly, who had been in love with the likes of Sherlock Holmes and was attracted enough to James Moriarty to go on a few dates with him. Men that were Byronesque in their good looks and quite honestly terrifying in their brilliance. Somehow, though, Molly saw him, _eventually_ , but Greg wasn't going to complain about the length of time it took her. It didn't matter. What mattered was she had and she liked what she saw. Greg, with all of his time consuming work, grey hair, and subpar (compared to Sherlock, anyway) intelligence. And it wasn't that she was blind to his faults. She saw them. She'd always seen them. They'd known each other too long for her not to. Despite them, or maybe even _because_ of them, she liked him.

Their first date had gone wonderfully. The movie was good, even if Molly didn't cringe and cower into his shoulder like some women might have. She kept her arm linked through his as they walked to the restaurant afterwards for dinner and, after a brief awkward silence before they hit on a topic of conversation, it was perfect. He held her hand on the walk back to her flat, received a very lovely kiss that had his heart racing and his body tightening when her tongue slipped into his mouth. She bid him goodnight with a flushed face and a happy smile and Greg felt a little like pumping his fist in the air. He'd gone to work the next day with a smug look on his face he couldn't shake. Not when Donovan teased him about it or Anderson drilled him with questions because of it. It only got worse as the day progressed because his phone buzzed with a text from her, saying what a lovely time she had and she couldn't wait until their next date.

A month passed with another handful of dates. Dinners and museums or just walks around the parks, sans Rosie. They still picked her up once a week for their afternoons together, but now with the added benefit of Molly's little hand wrapped up in his. The after dates were getting more interesting as well. She'd invited him in a few times where he could kiss her properly without worrying about a public audience. Molly had asked that they wait a while before going to bed together and Greg was more than happy to wait. It was hard to be put out when she allowed him to hold her in his lap on her sofa, one hand up her shirt to learn the gentle curves of her body while the other tangled itself into her hair. Especially not when she would rock against his rapidly growing excitement. It was great. More than he could have asked for and things would only get better the more time they spent together, the more trust they gained in each other, and the further they allowed their physical relationship to bloom.

This evening he was quickly working himself into a shite mood. The day had been rather boring. No dramatic murder scenes to rush off to, just a load of paperwork and a headache working itself into his temples. He'd consoled himself with the idea he would spend dinner with Molly, but just as he was finishing for the day a call came in. Murder victim found. Initial reports suggested she'd been beaten to death. He shot a text off to Molly, explaining and apologizing, then sent another one off to Sherlock in case he wanted to join in. Neither text him back. When he showed up on scene, Donovan yammering on beside him, Greg found an older woman in tears talking with one of the uniformed coppers.

"What'ya got?" Greg asked, flashing his badge and glancing over towards the alleyway that had been taped off where the body was. He couldn't see much.

"Female. Probably late thirties, but it's hard to see her face. She's, uh, she's pretty beaten up." the officer informed him, then motioned to the crying lady. "This is Mrs. Paleman. She called in the body."

"I saw her when I was leaving work." the woman cried, dabbing her face with a hanky. "I didn't expect..." she shook her head. "Who would do this to such a sweet woman?"

"You know her?" Greg asked just as Donovan came running back up from where she'd gone to see the body.

"Sir." she interrupted and something in her tone, in her expression, twisted his gut in worry. "I think...I think maybe you should hand this off."

"What?" he lifted a brow. "Why?" when Donovan winced a little and looked down at her shoes, Greg turned back to Mrs. Paleman. "You said you knew her?"

"Yes." she sniffed. "We work together, at the hospital. I work in records but Dr. Hooper..." Everything else the woman continued saying faded out, the white noise in his head drowning everything else out. He might have stumbled back a step because when he gathered himself enough Donovan was holding onto his elbow.

"Greg." she stepped closer to him. "Are you alright?"

"Molly." he said her name, then swallowed hard, a shake of his head. "Dr. _Molly_ Hooper?"

"Yes." Mrs. Paleman nodded.

"No." he shook his head. Molly hadn't worked today. It couldn't have been her. But...but they were just a block out from St. Bart's and Molly often got called in even when she wasn't scheduled.

"Greg, stop." Sally shouted at him and he realised he was striding towards the taped off area and the body. He needed to see...he needed to _know_. Ducking under the tape, he shoved past a few other uniforms and stopped dead when he caught sight of the body. She was laying on her back, body twisted in an unnatural pose. Her right arm must have been broken, as was her neck from the angle her head was laying at. Her face was swollen and bloody, bruising covering most of the visible skin. She was tiny and her long brown hair was matted with blood and the dampness of the concrete beneath her. Her jumper, brightly coloured and a size too large for her, was torn. Her trousers were ripped at the knees. One shoe was missing. The nails of her fingers were unpainted and cut short. Everything about her was familiar.

"Oh, god." he heard himself saying, low and rough and his stomach revolted. Stumbling to the nearby brick wall, Greg emptied his stomach of the little he'd managed to eat today. There was commotion going on around him. The officers on site were all shocked, watching a seasoned DI lose his shit at a relatively simple murder. Sally's hand was on his back, he could feel it, but he didn't look up. His body felt cold, so damn cold, and his chest felt hollow. He was shaking, shaking something terrible, but he couldn't stop.

"It's her." he finally whispered, his voice hoarse and rasping. "It's her, isn't it?"

"We don't know yet, Greg." Sally said gently. "It...it resembles her, yes, but there's been no identification."

"Mrs. Paleman." Greg straightened up, still facing the wall.

"She's assuming. Says she didn't see Molly at work, but they don't see each other every day. She's just going off of what she saw, which isn't definitive." Greg nodded, still not turning around. He couldn't look at that body again. Molly hadn't text him back. He hadn't actually talked to Molly since lunch time.

"It's not her." A deep voice came from behind him, breaking through the other voices and conversation. Greg spun around, avoiding looking down at the body on the ground and instead focused on Sherlock standing over it.

"No?" Greg asked, breath coming in shallow bursts.

"No." Sherlock shook his head then looked over at Greg. "This woman is at least four pounds shy of Molly's current weight. Her fingers are stained with ink, suggesting she spends a lot of time writing with a pen. Molly types and if she does use a pen, her hands are always washed. Almost obsessively so, a product of her work no doubt. This woman is also wearing perfume. Something imported, from France most likely. Her attire, which I will admit is much like something Molly would have chosen, is all second hand. Molly doesn't buy second hand."

Greg let out a huge breath that caught on something close to a sob and he tilted his head upwards to the sky.

" _Christ_." he closed his eyes tightly. "Christ. I gotta go." He needed to see Molly. Sherlock was right, he was always right, but Greg needed...he needed _tangible_ proof.

"DI Hopkins is on her way." Sherlock informed him. "Molly is at her flat, presumably watching Call the Midwife." When Greg simply stared at him, Sherlock let out a sigh. "I may have noticed the differences between the two women, but I questioned my deductions. I called Mycroft and he checked Molly's file. She hasn't left her flat since earlier this afternoon."

"Right." he gave a nod, still feeling too off kilter. He'd think about Mycroft having a file on Molly later. More important things needed to be seen to right now.

A few laws were broken on his way to Molly's flat. Speed limits and street lights were ignored with the aide of his cop light he'd slapped to the dash. He also illegally parked outside her building, but he'd deal with the ticket later. There was still a part of him, a skeptical, _terrified_ part of him that worried Sherlock had gotten it wrong. That Mycroft had missed something. That maybe that beaten and bloody woman had indeed been his Molly.

Striding up the stairs to her door, Greg knocked frantically at her door, breath held. A second passed and he knocked again.

"Molly." he shouted through the door. "Please, Molly, open the door." his voice sounded foreign to him. Shaky and panicked and so damn desperate. His knees nearly gave out from under him when he heard the locks jangling open. When the door finally opened, showing Molly standing there with her hair up in a pony tail and ridiculous pyjamas covered in what looked like pieces of sushi, Greg had to lean forward to brace himself on the doorframe.

"Greg?" she said his name, worry lacing her voice. "Greg, what's happened?" She reached out and touched his forearm and the contact snapped something inside of him. He collapsed into her door, gathering her up in a fierce hug that lifted her off her feet. He buried his face into her neck, inhaling the clean scent of her. Peppermint and oranges. She always smelled like peppermint and oranges. Not like French perfume.

"Oh, Greg." Molly tightened her arms around his neck, holding him back and running her fingers through the back of his hair. "You're shaking, darling. What's wrong? Tell me what's wrong. You're scaring me."

"She looked like you." he said into her hair, unwilling to pull away. He was aware he was crying and couldn't bring himself to reveal that to her right now. "Christ, Molly, that lady said it was you."

"Sh." Molly hushed him, kissing wherever she could reach on his head and neck. "Sh, it's alright."

"No." he croaked. "No, she was _beaten to death_. And I thought it was you. She _told_ me it was you." a deeper shudder ran through his body and he let out a shaky breath. "God, Molly, I thought you were dead."

"I'm not." she assured him. "It wasn't me. I'm right here."

She was. Greg nodded, soaking her up, the smell of her. He pressed his lips to the gentle throbbing of her pulse at her neck, feeling the thrum of her life running through her. Molly's breath hitched and excitement rushed through him, with the undeniable proof that Molly Hooper was alive and was there with him.

"Molly." he said her name just to hear it, moving his lips up her neck and to her jawline. Molly angled her head towards him, her soft cheek running along the stubble of his until their lips were touching. It was different from all the other kisses they shared. Greg felt desperate, like he needed to kiss her now with everything he had in him just in case he never got the chance to again. He licked into her mouth, drowning himself in the taste of her. Molly let out some sort of noise, but didn't pull away, just opened for him and clung to him, letting him control their pace when he'd always allowed her that in the past.

"Greg." she breathed his name when he pulled his mouth from hers to kiss down her neck, his hands loosening their hold on her so he could move them to touch her everywhere. One hand slid up her stomach and chest, fingers flicking a few buttons of her pyjama top open so he could slip inside and spread out over her chest, just above her left breast. He left it there, feeling the beating of her heart and the rise and fall of her lungs. Life; tangible, vibrant, _exciting_ life.

"Can I?" he lifted his head just enough to look at her face, taking in her flushed cheeks and soft eyes.

"Yes." she nodded. "Close the door first, please."

Without letting her go, Greg kicked the door shut and Molly reached around him to lock it back up. Once he heard the chain link latch he turned them around and pushed her up against the door. Without pulling his hand away from her rapidly beating heart, he took a step back and slowly let his eyes run down the length of her body, disguised as it was by her baggy pyjamas.

"I want to see you." he looked back up to her face, uncaring if he sounded needy or desperate, knowing the expression on his face was pleading.

Molly licked her lips. "Alright. Go ahead."

He took his time undoing the rest of the buttons with his free hand until her top was open just enough that he could see a single strip of exposed skin. The small divot of her belly button. The notch of her sternum between her breasts. Using the hand he had on her chest, he pushed the flannel material free of first her left, then her right shoulder. Molly took care of letting it fall the rest of the way.

She was so petite, so fragile looking even though he knew her to be one of the strongest women he'd ever met. Her slight breasts rose and fell quickly with the deep inhalations of breath, shaking slightly on the exhale. Bending down enough that he could press his forehead to the base of her throat, Greg watched his own hands encircle her waist, almost large enough to cover the expanse of her small stomach, her ribs expanding and contracting under his palms.

"I was so scared, Molly." he mumbled, half coherent of what he was actually saying. "I saw that woman, her face all bashed up." he swallowed hard when the mental picture flashed behind his eyes. " _Christ_." he exhaled shakily, moving his mouth down and to the side so he could draw one of her nipples into his mouth in an action that was more self soothing than it was meant to be arousing. From Molly's sharp inhale and how her hands gripped the back of his head, maybe it was both.

"It wasn't me." she whispered, head bent down to kiss the top of his hair. "It wasn't me, Greg."

"I know." he moved to the opposite breast, nuzzling his face into her soft, giving flesh before dropping to his knees. He kissed her belly, pressed his cheek against the cushion it provided. Even here he could hear the faint thrum of her pulse. So warm and soft.

"It's alright, Greg." Molly assured him, raking her fingers through his hair from forehead to the nape of his neck. "Do...do whatever you want. I'm here and you can have me."

Greg lifted his head from her stomach, looked up the length of her torso and met her gaze that held his. She smiled gently, hands cupping both of his cheeks, thumbs lightly brushing away the tear tracks there. God, she was amazing and alive and had chosen him.

Hooking his thumbs into the elastic of her pyjama bottoms and underwear, he pulled them down her legs and Molly used his shoulders to steady herself so she could step out of both. Greg didn't miss the tremble of her thighs and wondered if it were from nervous or arousal. Maybe it was a mixture of both, because Greg knew he was shaking himself from a myriad of emotions. She wasn't asking him to stop and Greg trusted her enough to do so if she didn't want this so he ran his mouth up one thigh while hooking the bend of her knee with his hand. When his mouth reached the crease of her leg, Greg lifted her other leg up and draped it over his shoulder.

He brought her off like that, up against the door with her leg over his shoulder and his mouth and tongue working between thighs. It didn't matter that she was completely naked while Greg still fully clothed, including his coat and shoes. It didn't matter that he was so hard his belt buckle was starting to hurt him. It didn't even matter that ending credits music for Call the Midwife was playing in the background. The only things that mattered were the woman above him, the taste of her ecstasy on his tongue, and the way her knees gave out and she slid down the door and into his lap.

"Mm." she purred contentedly, draping her arms around his neck and kissing his mouth, uncaring that it was wet with her release. "Thank you." she whispered against his lips.

"No." he shook his head, hands skimming down her back to cup her bare bottom and pull her closer to the aching throb in his trousers. "Don't thank me. I want to...I want..." he couldn't think straight, couldn't get the words that were floating around in his head out. Not when the wet heat of her body was seeping through the fabric of his trouser and pants. He squirmed around, canting his hips against hers, needing more friction, needing to feel her. And also needing to get up before his legs fell completely asleep and he lost feeling in them.

"Yeah." she agreed, like she understood what it was he wanted. Maybe she did. Maybe she wanted it just as badly, what with the way she was grinding down on him right now. Her hands had worked in between their bodies, fingers working frantically at the buckle of his belt.

"Not like this." he wrapped his hands around her wrists, halting her movements. "Let's go to your bed. I want to watch you, see your face. Let me have you there, where I can touch every part of you."

Molly moaned softly, shivering deeply before clamoring off of his lap. He let her help him off the floor and he let her pull his coat off while he toed his shoes off next to the door. Once he was barefoot, Molly started leading him back to her room, pieces of his clothing being removed and tossed aside as they moved slowly. They were frequently distracted by the need to touch and kiss and Greg nearly ended up on his arse when he tried to follow her through the doorway of her bedroom and his pants were still round his ankles. Molly laughed, light and happy and so sweet Greg couldn't even be embarrassed. Kicking the pants to the side, Greg knelt down enough to wrap an arm under her bum and lift her up, taking the last two steps to the side of her bed and dropping her down onto the mattress with a bounce.

"You sure about this?" he asked, following her down, crawling over the top of her so he could feel her naked skin against his own. "We can stop. I'm...I'm alright now. I just...I was shook, Molly. I can't..."

"Sh." she pressed a finger to his mouth when his voice cracked. "I want to. It's fine." She pointed to her nightstand, telling him where he could find a condom. Ripping one off the roll, Greg opened it and put it on before resuming his spot over the top of her. Molly held her bottom lip in her mouth, hands splaying open on his chest, fingers rubbing absently at the hair there.

"What is it?" he asked, leaning down to pull her lip into his mouth instead, soothing the abused flesh with his tongue.

"Would you mind if...if I were on..." she flushed, staring at his throat instead of his face. "On top?"

Greg cupped her chin in his hand, bringing her face back up to his and kissed her once again. "Anything you want, Molly girl."

Once they'd rolled over to switch position, Molly, flushed and breathing hard, closed her eyes tightly as she lowered herself onto him. Greg held onto her hips, letting her go at a pace she wanted, teeth grit and body tight.

"Greg." she whispered his name once she was fully set on him. Greg looked up at her, finding her looking back at him and the expression on her face turned him on almost as much as the hot grip of her body.

"Come here." she pulled upwards on his shoulders and Greg accommodated her request, sitting up so she could wrap her body around his and they were touching everywhere. When she started moving, movements small and slow, Greg was nearly overwhelmed with it. With her. He started shaking again, from the influx of sensation, the dramatic change in emotions over the last few hours. He wasn't scared, though. What he felt for her was right, it was comforting, gentle and soothing. Almost like the way they were moving together now.

Wanting to see her, Greg pulled his face from her neck just enough to look at her face. Pleasure heavy eyes met his and a small smile pulled up her mouth and he just had to kiss her. He kept doing that, kissing her, breathing her in, until Molly's own body began losing the rhythm she'd set, shaking and tightening. She grasped the back of his head with one hand, clutched his shoulder with the other, and came with a deep, bone shaking moan. Greg held her through it, let her catch her breath, and then gently rolled her over while staying inside of her. When he started thrusting again, Molly's eyes opened in surprise.

"You didn't?"

"No." he kissed her. "Not yet." he groaned at the hot coil in his groin. "Close. Fuck, so close."

Molly helped him along, canting her hips into each of his thrusts, purposefully tightening her body around his until it was all too much and he came. He thought briefly through the haze of pleasure to be embarrassed at how weak it made his body, but Molly just held him tighter to her chest, rolling to the side a little so she wasn't taking on all of his weight.

"Hey." she whispered after a few moments of silent bliss. Greg licked lips dry from open mouthed panting.

"Hey." he lifted his head to look at her, unable not to smile once he saw her face. "God, you're stunning." he told her, running a finger across her cheekbone. Molly smiled, but her eyes darted away from his.

"You're pretty wonderful yourself."

"Yeah?" he asked, tipping his head to the side to catch her eyes again.

"Yeah." Molly nodded, then frowned a little, one hand cupping his face. "I'm sorry you were so shook up earlier."

"Not your fault." he turned his head to kiss her palm. "I didn't mean to be overbearing or...or anything."

"It's fine. And understandable, thinking you've seen someone you know beaten up like that."

"Oh, Molly." Greg shook his head, sitting up even more so he could see her properly. "It wasn't just that. The thought of losing you like that, or at all. It's so much more than..." he shook his head, looking for words, but shit. He was never good at this sort of thing. The words were simple though, even if their meaning wasn't. He looked down at Molly, at her big brown eyes so full of patience and understanding. How she looked at him like maybe...

"I love you, Molly." he told her, brows pulled together in seriousness. "For longer than you were ready for me to. I think now you can hear it, though. I hope you can accept it and it's fine if you don't..."

Molly cut him off with her finger pressed to his mouth, a soft smile on hers.

"You really are an idiot sometimes, Greg." she laughed lightly. "Of course I love you, too. How could I possibly not?"

A hundred different reasons came to mind, but he wisely kept them to himself. Instead, he kissed her again before getting up so they could both clean up. There wasn't really a question if he would stay or not. It was a given, so he crawled under the covers with her and hugged himself to the curve of her back, one hand splayed open just above her breast. Nothing could have been better than falling asleep with her in his arms, the steady beating of her heart against his hand.

**Author's Note:**

> The second chapter will be up probably tomorrow sometime and it'll be the reason for the rating so if you're not okay with smut, then you should probably take this as a one shot :)


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